Part 18 (1/2)

”Good news, men. We're done for the day. Decius is thinking about putting the rest of the traps where they'll take Syzambry's men, not us!”

”I'd work here a moon and more if it'd build a trap for the count himself!” one man shouted. Others nodded.

”You may get that chance, but tomorrow,” Conan said. He set the example by starting to bundle up pry bars and hammers.

As the tools clinked into the baskets, it came to the Cimmerian that Decius might have another reason for not taking the field. Eloikas's handful of good men might chase the count's retainers all over the hills for many days without ever coming up against the count himself.

If the little man with the great ambitions escaped, he could find another army. If he died, his cause was finished. And what better way to kill him than to let him come to the palace, as he must if he wished the final victory?

Perhaps there was nothing wrong with either the captain-general's wits or his loyalty. It did not make Conan any happier to think about being immured in this crumbling palace against all of his instincts for taking the fight to the foe.

Outside the chief's hut, thunder rolled. Aybas, peering through the c.h.i.n.ks between the logs, saw no lightning, so he knew it was the witch-thunder again.

Had he doubted, the sounding of horns and drums from the village would have ended his doubting.

Count Syzambry let the thunder-and the din of the Pougoi trying to fight it-die away before speaking. He did not take his eyes off of Aybas and Oyzhik, sitting together-on the straw at his feet.

If Aybas had not long since given over flinching at the witch-thunder, he would have nerved himself to sit still under the count's scrutiny.

Oyzhik was clearly as uneasy as a man on hot bricks, and the chill of the mountain night did not keep the sweat from his brow. Rather than seem less brave than Oyzhik, Aybas would have climbed the dam and cast himself into the slime-dripping grip of the beast.

”The Pougoi can be trusted?” Oyzhik asked for the third time.

Something that had no name flickered across Syzambry's face. In the dimness, Aybas could not read the little count's countenance, nor did he really wish to try.

”They can be trusted for all that I have asked them to do,” Syzambry replied.

Aybas had the sense not to ask Syzambry what the Pougoi were expected to do to help lift the count onto the throne. In any case, there would not have been time for an answer even had Syzambry wished to give one.

Heavy footsteps thudded on the beaten earth outside, and the door opened with squeals and groans. Half a score of Pougoi warriors marched in, with one of the Star Brothers bringing up the rear. The warriors carried spears and stone-headed axes, the wizard a leather sack.

”Him,” Syzambry said. The warriors surrounded the seated men. The count motioned Aybas to rise and step forward. Aybas commanded his legs to uphold him and his knees not to rattle together, and obeyed.

Oyzhik's mouth opened, but before he could cry out, four warriors were upon him. A leather gag stifled his cries, while leather thongs bound his wrists and hobbled his ankles. Then the warriors gripped the thongs and Oyzhik's travel-stained clothing and dragged him out of the hut.

Aybas remained motionless until the heavy tread of the warriors faded into the night. Stepping back and looking nowhere and everywhere, he said quietly: ”Decius would have given much to see that.”

”Pah!” Count Syzambry moved nothing except his mouth. Then he crossed his thin legs in their dyed riding leathers and shrugged. ”If our lord captain-general had blood instead of milk in his veins, he would long since have taken his rights. Had he done so, I would have served him gladly.”

Aybas thought that Count Syzambry would gladly serve another man the day vultures gave over their lives to fasting and prayer.

”Is Oyzhik to go to the beast?” Aybas asked.

”You presume to question my judgment?” Syzambry purred.

”I question nothing,” Aybas said, ”least of all your judgment. Were it not sound, we would hardly be so close to your victory. I merely remind you that too many among the Pougoi are uneasy about the sacrifices to the beast.”

”They are cowards,” Syzambry snapped.

It could be said that with enough cowards, the best army might become a rabble. It could also be said that any man who had watched the princess's coming to the valley could be excused for wis.h.i.+ng himself elsewhere.