Part 27 (1/2)
He did not add that he would lead the scouts himself. Eloikas would most likely forbid it. That would waste the time needed to choose another man, when they might have no time at all to spare.
”That all, lord?” the messenger asked.
”Isn't that-?” Decius snarled, then caught himself. ”Tell the king that the moment we know more, he shall know it-”
Decius broke off because his jaw had sunk onto his chest. Nor was his the only jaw agape.
Captain Conan of the Second Company was striding up the path, looking weather-worn and leaner than before, but alive and ready for battle.
Behind him, shapes in the dawn and clatters and clangs farther down the path told Decius that Conan had a following.
Decius mustered his wits. ”Well, Captain Conan. You-” He decided that ”you finally stopped running” would be a mortal insult, and possibly a false accusation as well. ”You have come, I hope, to give some explanation of your conduct?”
”That, and more,” Conan said. He seemed as impervious to Decius's scorn as a castle keep to a child's arrows. ”My conduct includes chopping a band of Syzambry's free lances to rags, as well as some other matters best not talked of before everybody. When you've heard them, I think you'll say I've explained enough.”
Decius began to believe that the Cimmerian spoke the truth, and not only because of his a.s.sured tone. The royal party had heard rumors of the shattered free lances, as they had heard tales of Syzambry's having been wounded almost to death.
A figure behind Conan removed a helmet and shook the tangles out of fair hair. Decius's heart leaped within his breast, and he could no longer command his face.
”Welcome, Mistress Raihna.”
Her smile made the captain-general's heart leap again. Then a man clad in green and brown, with a sack over one shoulder and a staff in hand, stepped through the ranks of Conan's men. From the manner in which they gave way for him, Decius judged him to be one who had served them well.
”This man is a woodcutter who guided us to your camp,” Raihna said.
”He knew where we were?” one of the sentries growled. His hand was not far from his bow.
”Peace,” Conan said. ”The woodcutter's a loyal man. Hot pincers and the rack together wouldn't give his knowledge to Syzambry.”
Decius was willing to take that on faith. What he doubted was that this man was a woodcutter, or anything else that it was wise to speak of before others. Conan and the ”woodcutter” were indeed going before the king, although they might not care for what came of it.
Decius called the eager sentry over. ”Go to His Majesty. Tell him that Captain Conan has returned with survivors of the Second Company and knowledge he wishes to lay before the king.”
As the man scurried off, Decius resumed his contemplation of the ”woodcutter.” This was not as pleasant as the contemplation of Raihna would have been, but duty before pleasure. The woodcutter stood as if it was nothing new for him to be inspected like a pack mule or a bale of cloth.
He continued to stand under Decius's scrutiny until the messenger returned with the summons of the king. By then, Decius had decided that the man would reveal nothing he did not choose to... which meant that it would be well to deal generously with Captain Conan, unless he had done something altogether disgraceful. Generous dealing might open his mouth, at least!
The tent of King Eloikas had three walls and a roof, made of stout cloth dyed with herbs until it shared the color of the forest floor.
The rear of the tent was the solid rock of the base of a cliff. In that rock was a narrow cleft: the king's path to Safety in the last extremity should the camp be falling to his enemies.
To Conan, the rock cleft seemed more like a path to a quicker and more merciful death for Eloikas. The Cimmerian doubted that the king could survive a long scramble through the bowels of the hill.
Eloikas had looked a hale sixty when Conan had last seen him. Now he looked a feeble and sickly seventy, and his hands were so thin they seemed almost transparent. His lips held a bluish tinge, and his breath came with a painful effort.
He still commanded, for which Conan was grateful. The Cimmerian told the tale of his journey from the palace briefly, so as not to tire the king. Whatever Conan had done, or what might be done to him, he suspected that what Marr the Piper had to say would prove of importance.
Decius, he suspected, was not of the same mind. The Cimmerian no longer doubted the captain-general's loyalty. He had, by all accounts, fought too hard and endured too much in Eloikas's cause to be any kind of traitor.
But a man smitten by Raihna and seeking a chance to disgrace a rival-the captain-general might still be so described. Men could make as great mischief out of jealousy as out of treason, as Conan knew all too well. Were matters otherwise, he might still be a captain in the Turanian service instead of climbing the hills of the Border Kingdom.
The captain-general heard Conan out in silence, then waited while the king asked a few shrewd questions. Etoikas's body might be failing him, but his wits were not.