Part 17 (1/2)
”But what other path is there for me, oh G.o.ds?”
Neither the skies, the wind, nor the rocks beneath, answered Aybas's cry.
Conan had hopes of taking the Second Company out into the field to put a final polish on its new skills. Decius had other plans.
”If Syzambry has half the men we think he does,” the captain-general said, ”we have no hope against him in the open. The more we guard the palace, the less harm he can do.”
”The more we guard the palace, the more we leave the count a free hand everywhere else,” Conan replied. ”I'm a stranger here. I don't know how many friends Eloikas has outside the palace-”
”That's King Eloikas to you, Cimmerian,” Decius snapped. ”And you say truly, you are a stranger here.”
”A stranger who's seen his share of battles and intrigues,” Conan reminded the older man. ”Such a share that His Majesty made me captain over a company of his own Palace Guard. Did you argue against that, or are you regretting it now?”
That was pus.h.i.+ng a man of higher rank rather hard, but not harder than necessary, or so it seemed to Conan. If Decius was letting a boy's pa.s.sion for Raihna addle the man's and the captain's wits-
Decius shook his head. ”I spoke for you then, and I will speak for you now whatever you say to me. Just think before you speak, if you have it in you to do so.”
Conan gave Decius a tiger's grin. ”Well enough, my lord. I think that His Majesty must have some friends in this realm. Otherwise, Syzambry would have plumped his a.r.s.e down on the throne years ago.”
”Not unlikely.”
”Cursed near certain, I'd say. Now, what will these friends say if they see us hiding in the palace like a mole in its burrow? I know the king's no coward. You know the king's no coward. What about our friends? Even if they think that the king's worth helping, what will they do if Syzambry's men are free to roam the land? If any of our friends so much as give the count a sour look, they'll be dead, or running for their lives. Running to us for help, when we've enough to do for ourselves.”
Decius looked the Cimmerian over with great care, as if the younger man had just grown bright-blue scales or a long, spiked tail. Then he shook his head again.
”Conan,” he said, ”if you ever 'plump your a.r.s.e' down upon a throne, I would not like to be the man called on to move you from it.”
Conan shrugged. ”I've seen a few men win thrones or lose them. I'd be a fool not to learn from that. One thing I've learned is that a throne makes a man a big target, and a sitting one. The day my a.r.s.e and a throne do make friends, you can call me a fool!”
”Small chance that either of us will ever have the chance,” Decius said. ”But it is more than likely that Count Syzambry will be visiting us soon. Your company's work for now is to make sure that our hospitality is worthy of him. We will speak later of taking the field again.”
”Later,” it seemed, might be in the next age of the world for all Conan heard of the matter in the next few days. He had little time to concern himself with it, however, for the work given to the Second Company kept captain and men alike as busy as galley slaves.
Oyzhik's traps were many, but for the most part they were poorly made, and too often poorly concealed. Conan wondered if Oyzhik had planned this to be sure that his master's men would not spring the traps even if he could not wreck them on the night of the attack.
Be that as it may, one cunning and well-concealed trap was worth a dozen that any child could avoid. Conan made sure that no child would find any of the ones he set. Some were Oyzhik's deadfalls-pits, hidden crossbows and the like-done over with greater skill and b.l.o.o.d.y intent.
Others were altogether new. Conan had to be cautious there. The palace was vast, built in days when the Border Kingdom bore another name and its main defense lay with armies that marched where other realms now held sway. It was also ancient, and it had been several generations since the Border kings had had the gold to pay masons to repair sagging arches and cracking walls.
There were parts of the palace unvisited by any living man. Conan judged that the count would seek entry by these long-unused paths, and he gave most of his attention to them. Care was needed to avoid leaving suspicious traces. Still more care was needed to avoid bringing entire corridors or chambers down on the heads of the workers instead of on the count's men.
Raihna visited Conan one day during the noon meal. She found him stripped to a loinguard, sword, and a liberal coating of dust and plaster, sitting with a company of Guards similarly clad. The fruits of their morning's labor yawned before her, a pit with a spiked log in the bottom.
”When we've closed the pit, we'll lay on another surprise,” Conan said, pointing toward a side hall. ”An old catapult cord with a trip release and a barrel of tar. We'll have a lighted candle in a clay pot set into the barrel. When the barrel breaks and spills the tar, the candle falls into the tar and the whole chamber's ankle-deep in flames.”
Several of the Guards cheered at the picture. Others called greetings to Raihna, inviting her to join them at their work-
”-'specially if you get into our workin' garb,” one added.
Raihna clapped her hand to her sword hilt and stepped back, nostrils flaring in mock fury. She set a boot heel into a pile of rubble, and dust flew up like smoke from a fire. She took in a good breathful, coughed, then began sneezing.