Part 41 (1/2)

It was Raihna, who had come out of the darkness beside the path as silently as a cat. Decius started to nod, then knew that in his heart he did not wish to be alone.

”Mistress Raihna, in truth I would enjoy your company.”

They walked side by side to the captain-general's tent. They were a sword's length apart, and Raihna's garb was no more revealing than usual, yet Decius had never been so aware of her as a woman.

They sat on furs just inside the mouth of Decius's tent. The captain-general sent away his bodyservant and drew a skin of wine from under the furs.

”Poor hospitality, I fear.”

”No hospitality is poor when the host is a treasure.”

Decius hoped that the firelight did not reveal him flus.h.i.+ng like a boy.

He sensed that there was more than Raihna's nimble tongue in that praise.

Raihna drank deeply, then handed the skin to Decius. In doing so, she let some drops fall on his wrist.

”Forgive me, my lord. Here, let me...”

She put her mouth to his wrist and began licking off the wine.

That Decius had been long a widower did not make him a fool. He put both hands under Raihna's chin and lifted her face to receive his kiss.

Her mouth bloomed under his, and her arms went around him.

It was amazing how swiftly the lacings of armor could be undone by skilled fingers. There was nothing amazing about what followed, unless it was that Raihna was even fairer to look at than Decius had suspected.

It was not until Raihna was sleeping in his arms that Decius realized they had not closed the tent flaps. They had been tumbling in the furs, clad only in the firelight, in full sight of anyone who wished to wander by. Had Conan chosen to pa.s.s along this path-

No. Decius would take the word of both Conan and Raihna that the woman was her own mistress. After that, he would take her into his arms again, if she was willing.

He dared not think about taking her to wife, not until the battle was won. That would be tempting the G.o.ds, and for now, they had given him enough and to spare. His thought on leaving the queen had been a true one: the G.o.ds did have some care for humans.

Conan returned to the camp at dawn. The men he was taking against Count Syzambry had needed little more training, save at setting ambushes by night. This he had given them, and they now knew as much as he thought necessary.

The Pougoi was masters of them all in the art of night fighting, he knew. But the queen did not care to send the tribesmen far afield and out of reach of her loyal men. Thyrin had borne this with more grace than Conan expected, although no one could call the man pleased. The G.o.ds willing, he should even be able to keep the peace among his warriors-

It was no great surprise for Conan to find that Raihna was not in his tent. It was somewhat more of a surprise to see that her clothing and weapons had likewise departed. It was a considerable surprise indeed to find Wylla asleep in the furs.

At least the hair spread out over the furs was the color of Wylla's, and the shapely bare arm that trailed off onto the floor of the tent was that of a woman as young and comely. Conan removed his boots and crept on hands and knees to the furs. Kneeling, he gripped the furs with one hand and poised the other over the arm.

Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed the furs away. The morning light proved what he had suspected. Wylla lay there, as bare as a newborn babe and much more pleasing to look at. She also lay so deeply asleep that Conan realized other measures than removing the furs might be called for.

He bent over, ready to kiss her.

Her arms took on a life of their own, leaping up to twine round his neck. She embraced him so tightly that she lifted herself clear of the furs, pressing her whole length against him. Conan felt every curve, and the heat of her blood flowed into his.

Wylla began to croon softly as Conan returned her embrace. Conan knew a moment's unease at the singing, but he soon pa.s.sed beyond caring about such matters. Wylla saw to that.

The song ended as Wylla curled against him, taking and giving warmth, one hand still twined in the Cimmerian's black hair. The silence lasted until Conan's laughter broke forth.