Part 26 (2/2)
After a moment she took a deep breath, then knelt and tore the cover off the basket. Without bothering to don any garments, she began wolfing bread and cheese.
Conan waited until she stopped for breath, then handed her a cup of wine. It vanished in two gulps, followed by the rest of the basket's contents. At last Illyana sat up, looked ruefully at the empty basket, then stood.
”I'm sorry, but-Cimmerian, what are you laughing at?”
”You're the first sorceress I've ever seen who'd admit to being hungry!”
A brief smile was the only reply. Raihna went to gather Illyana's clothes, while Conan handed the empty basket to the innkeeper.
”Again? I suppose I can expect to be paid by the time King Yildiz's grandson ascends the-”
A furious pounding on the street door broke into the man's speech. The innkeeper rose and handed the basket to Conan.
”Time to go down and play my part. Ah well, if I can no longer keep an inn, there are always temple pageants needing actors! Best make haste, though. I heard some outside say that Lord Achmai had reached town. If he takes a hand, I will not make an enemy-”
”Achmai?”
”So they said. He's a great name in these parts. I've heard-”
”I've heard all the tales told of him, and more besides,” Conan snapped. ”Now-is there a place on the roof where I can overlook the town without being seen?”
”Yes. But what-?”
”Show me.”
”If this is against Lord-”
”It's for all of us! Now choose. Show me to the roof, keep the rest of your promises, and take your chances with Achmai. Or be stubborn, fear him more than me, and die here.”
The innkeeper looked at Conan's drawn sword, measured his chances of escaping it, and judged wisely.
”Down the hall and to the right. I'll show you.”
From downstairs, the pounding redoubled, and curses joined it.
Bora's own rasping breath drowned Out the struggles of those around him to climb the hill. He was younger and stronger than most, but tonight he had run five times as far as any.
Any, that is, except the demons, and they knew not human limits. Most of them, at least-the demons could be slain, hurt, or made cautious.
Otherwise, they seemed as insensate as an avalanche or an earthquake.
Stopping to look downhill, Bora saw most of the laggards had somebody helping them. Thank Mitra, the Powder had done its work well. The people of Crimson Springs might be homeless, but they were still a village, not a mob ready to fight each other for the smallest chance of safety.
Bora waited until most of the laggards had pa.s.sed him. Then he walked downhill, to meet the half-dozen strongest youths and men who'd formed themselves into a rearguard. To his surprise, Ivram was among them.
”I thought you were long gone,” Bora nearly shouted.
”You thought an old fat man like me could outstrip a youth with winged feet like yours? Truly, Bora, your wits are deserting you.”
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