Part 8 (1/2)
”The Burning Skull!” It was a shuddering whisper of fear from the people of Tecuhltli.
”Aye! Then came I, and found Chicmec lying with his throat cut. Before I could flee, the Burning Skull came upon me, and when I looked upon it my blood became as ice and the marrow of my bones melted. I could neither fight nor run. I could only await the stroke. Then came this white-skinned woman and struck him down with her sword; and lo, it was only a dog of Xotalanc with white paint upon his skin and the living skull of an ancient wizard upon his head! Now that skull lies in many pieces, and the dog who wore it is a dead man!”
An indescribably fierce exultation edged the last sentence, and was echoed in the low, savage exclamations from the crowding listeners.
”But wait!” exclaimed Techotl. ”There is more! While I talked with the woman, four Xotalancs came upon us! One I slew-there is the stab in my thigh to prove how desperate was the fight. Two the woman killed. But we were hard pressed when this man came into the fray and split the skull of the fourth! Aye! Five crimson nails there are to be driven into the pillar of vengeance!”
He pointed at a black column of ebony which stood behind the dais.
Hundreds of red dots scarred its polished surface-the bright scarlet heads of heavy copper nails driven into the black wood.
”Five red nails for five Xotalanca lives!” exulted Techotl, and the horrible exultation in the faces of the listeners made them inhuman.
”Who are these people?” asked Olmec, and his voice was like the low, deep rumble of a distant bull. None of the people of Xuchotl spoke loudly. It was as if they had absorbed into their souls the silence of the empty halls and deserted chambers.
”I am Conan, a Cimmerian,” answered the barbarian briefly. ”This woman is Valeria of the Red Brotherhood, an Aquilonian pirate. We are deserters from an army on the Darfar border, far to the north, and are trying to reach the coast.”
The woman on the dais spoke loudly, her words tripping in her haste.
”You can never reach the coast! There is no escape from Xuchotl You will spend the rest of your lives in this city!”
”What do you mean?” growled Conan, clapping his hand to his hilt and stepping about so as to face both the dais and the rest of the room.
”Are you telling us we're prisoners?”
”She did not mean that,” interposed Olmec. ”We are your friends. We would not restrain you against your will. But I fear other circ.u.mstances will make it impossible for you to leave Xuchotl.”
His eyes flickered to Valeria, and he lowered them quickly.
”This woman is Tascela,” he said. ”She is a princess of Tecuhltli. But let food and drink be brought our guests. Doubtless they are hungry, and weary from their long travels.”
He indicated an ivory table, and after an exchange of glances, the adventurers seated themselves. The Cimmerian was suspicious. His fierce blue eyes roved about the chamber, and he kept his sword close to his hand. But an invitation to eat and drink never found him backward. His eyes kept wandering to Tascela, but the princess had eyes only for his white-skinned companion.
Techotl, who had bound a strip of silk about his wounded thigh, placed himself at the table to attend to the wants of his friends, seeming to consider it a privilege and honor to see after their needs. He inspected the food and drink the others brought in gold vessels and dishes, and tasted each before he placed it before his guests. While they ate, Olmec sat in silence on his ivory seat, watching them from under his broad black brows. Tascela sat beside him, chin cupped in her hands and her elbows resting on her knees. Her dark, enigmatic eyes, burning with a mysterious light, never left Valeria's supple figure.
Behind her seat a sullen handsome girl waved an ostrich-plume fan with a slow rhythm.
The food was fruit of an exotic kind unfamiliar to the wanderers, but very palatable, and the drink was a light crimson wine that carried a heady tang.
”You have come from afar,” said Olmec at last. ”I have read the books of our fathers. Aquilonia lies beyond the lands of the Stygians and the Shemites, beyond Argos and Zingara; and Cimmeria lies beyond Aquilonia.”
”We have each a roving foot,” answered Conan carelessly.
”How you won through the forest is a wonder to me,” quoth Olmec. ”In bygone days a thousand fighting men scarcely were able to carve a road through its perils.”
”We encountered a bench-legged monstrosity about the size of a mastodon,” said Conan casually, holding out his wine goblet which Techotl filled with evident pleasure. ”But when we'd killed it we had no further trouble.”
The wine vessel slipped from Techotl's hand to crash on the floor. His dusky skin went ashy. Olmec started to his feet, an image of stunned amazement, and a low gasp of awe or terror breathed up from the others.
Some slipped to their knees as if their legs would not support them.
Only Tascela seemed not to have heard. Conan glared about him bewilderedly.
”What's the matter? What are you gaping about?”