Part 10 (1/2)

”I will tell him all that the G.o.ds will permit me to say,” Conan replied. ”Now, is anything else lacking?”

”This food of the city folk is hardly food for men,” the youngest man said. ”But I do not suppose it will turn us into weaklings or women in a few days.”

”It will not. And if you are needed for longer than that, I shall see that you have proper food. By what is known but may not be talked of, I swear it!”

The tribesmen made their gesture of respect as Conan turned and led a mystified Raihna out of the stable. In the courtyard between the stable and the inn, she turned to him with a bemused expression.

”Those were Hyrkanians, were they not?”

”Your eye improves each day, Raihna.”

”They look as likely to steal our goods as to guard them.”

”Not those, nor any of their tribe. We owe each other blood debts.”

”The Hyrkanians honor those, or so I have heard.”

”You have heard the truth.”

Much to Conan's relief, Raihna did not seem disposed to pursue the matter further. His battle against the Cult of Doom in company with the tribesmen was not for the ears of anyone who might tell Mishrak.

Raihna strode across the courtyard and into the inn with her back even straighter than usual. As they climbed the stairs, Conan heard the jingle of her purse.

”How much have you left?” She told him. ”I'd be happier with more, if we're going to buy horses for the mountains.”

”Mishrak expects us to find them at the army outposts.”

”Meaning he has his own men in the outposts? Likely enough. I'd still much rather have a second choice, one that won't take us close to the outposts. If Mishrak can put his men into them, why can't Houma do the same?”

”You see clearly, Conan.”

”I'm still alive, Raihna. I've always thought being alive has it over being dead. If Mishrak will spend a little more of his gold, we may not have to spend our blood. Tell that to your mistress, since she seems to have his ear!”

They were at the door of her room. Mishrak's gold had bought them not only horses and gear, but separate rooms at one of Aghrapur's best inns. Of a certainty their enemies would hear of their presence, but could hope to do nothing. Between the watch and the inn's own guards, nothing could be attempted without a pitched battle.

Why attack a bear in his den, when you knew he would soon have to leave it?

”Sleep well, Raihna.” She turned to unlock her door. As always, Conan's blood stirred at the swell of b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips, the long graceful lines of back and leg. Well, the inn did not ask a man to sleep alone-

Raihna gripped his hand and led him through the door. She kicked the door shut, and before he could speak had lifted her tunic over her head. The upper slopes of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were lightly freckled; their firm fullness seemed to cry out for a man's hand.

Conan's blood no longer stirred. It seethed, on the verge of boiling over.

”You wished me a sound sleep, Conan. Well, come here and let us both find it. Or must I disrobe you as well as myself? I warn you, if I must do that I may be too weary for bedsport-”

”Hah!” Conan said. His arms went around her, lifting her off her feet.

Desire thundered in him, and he felt the same in her. ”If it's weary you want to be, Raihna, then I can give you the soundest sleep of your life!”

Five.