Part 19 (1/2)
With that look on her face, Conan would not have asked her more for the Crown of Turan. After a moment he drank the wine himself, donned his clothes, and set about waking Dessa.
From the wall outside, a sentry called.
”The fifth hour, and all's well!”
The sentry could barely be heard over the drunken snores of the men in the Great Hall. He also sounded a trifle drunk himself. He was still on duty, though, ready to give the alarm.
Conan led the way to the outer door of the hall, to find the door locked from the inside. Illyana stepped forward, holding up the arm bearing the Jewel of Kurag.
The Cimmerian shook his head. He had never studied under the master thieves of Zamora, men to whom no lock held many secrets for long. He could still open a crude lock such as this in less time and with less uproar than any spell.
Outside, the courtyard was deserted and seemingly lifeless. Only the faint glow of a brazier outside the stables showed a human presence.
Conan gave the ruddy glow a sour look. Well, it was a soldier's luck, to find that the only place guarded was the one he wanted.
The cool night air awoke Dessa from her near-sleepwalking. She looked about her, and her dark eyes widened.
”What-where are you taking me? This is not the way to Lord Achmai's-”
”You will not be going back to him,” Conan said. ”We have come to take you to Ma.s.souf, your betrothed. He is wailing for you.”
”Ma.s.souf? I thought he was long dead!”
”You received no messages from him?” Illyana asked. ”He sent all he could.”
”Oh, some reached me. But how could I believe them?”
Illyana looked bewildered.
”Believe me,” Conan said. ”It's easy to believe everyone's lying to you when you're a slave. Most do.”
Dessa smiled, as if he had praised her dancing or beauty. Then her face changed to a mask of determination. She opened her mouth and drew in breath for a scream.
None but the Cimmerian could have silenced Dessa without hurting her.
His ma.s.sive arms held her as gently as an eggsh.e.l.l, but she could make no more sound than a man entombed.
As Conan s.h.i.+fted his grip, Illyana stepped close. One hand rested on Dessa's forehead. Conan felt a tingling in his arms, his head swam, and Dessa slumped boneless and senseless against him.
”What-what did you do?” The effort to stand and speak made his voice grate harshly. As through a mist, he saw light fading from within the Jewel.
”A simple sleeping spell.”
”Cast so quickly?”
”Against Dessa, yes. Against someone alert and strong-willed, it would not be so easy. I would not care to cast it against you at all.”
”So you say.”
”Conan, you still see evil in my magic? What can I do to persuade you otherwise?”