Part 33 (1/2)

Only when he saw the man still dead and the Jewel still intact did he approach either. Not for some minutes after that did he venture to pick up the Jewel. Some minutes after that, he found courage to call his human servants to attend.

As they scrambled up the hill toward him, he contemplated the Jewel glowing on the ground at his feet. All sorcerers who knew of the Jewels also knew the tales of what they had seemingly done (and whom they had seemingly slain) of their own will.

Eremius was no exception. Until tonight, like most sorcerers, he had also believed the tales were mostly that. Now he wondered. Had Illyana contrived the fate of the Jewel-bearer, he would have sensed her efforts, perhaps defeated them. He had sensed nothing.

What did soldiers do, when they found their swords coming alive in their hands? Eremius doubted that even such as Khadjar would be equal to that question.

By dawn Conan had finished his work. The last pack mule had been loaded with ration bread and salt pork and led to the corral just beyond the north gate.

The Cimmerian broke his fast with wine and a stew of onions and smoked goat's meat. Time enough to burden his belly with field rations! As he poured a second cup of wine, he considered how little he would have cared for his present work a few years ago.

Cimmerian war bands could live off the land for a month. Conan had despised the men of civilized lands for needing to bring food with them. Khadjar and experience alike had taught him the error of that.

Illyana took shape out of the grayness, so subtly that for a moment Conan wondered if she'd come by magic. At the look on his face, she laughed softly.

”Fear not, Conan. I use no arts where they might put men in fear. I would ask you, though-have you seen anyone wandering about as if mazed in his wits? Besides Captain Shamil?”

”Ha! That's nothing to what he'll be, when Dessa lets him out of bed!”

Conan frowned. ”Not that I can remember. But I've had other work at hand, and in the dark it's enough to tell man from woman!”

”Ah well. You and Raihna were the only ones I could ask, except perhaps Khezal. Raihna had seen no one.”

Conan sensed an explanation forthcoming, if he would give Illyana time to find the words for it. He hoped she would be swift. The column had to be on the road before midmorning, to have the smallest hope of reaching the villagers before the demons did.

”You are right to suspect a plot last night. Someone sought to enter my chamber and steal the Jewel.”

”None of us heard any sound.”

”You were not expected to. I contrived a spell in the Jewel, to make whoever entered my chamber lose all memory of why he came. He might not have regained all his wits yet. He was confused enough to leave this ring.”

She held out a ring of finely-wrought silver, but

Conan had never seen it on the hand of anyone in the fort. He shook his head.

”Why not contrive a spell to kill or stun him?”

”Conan, I think as do you and Raihna. The fewer who know what I truly am, the better. Not even Khezal has been told, has he?”

”No. But I'd not wager a cup of poor wine on his remaining ignorant.

That's a very long-headed man we'll have leading us.”

”Two long-headed men, Conan. If Khezal allows you to do all you can, as he must if he's no fool.”

Conan smiled politely at the flattery, but no more. He sensed things still unspoken, and perhaps best left so. Except that if you went ignorant into battle you might as well cut your throat beforehand and save your enemies the trouble-

”I did work another spell. It was to make the Jewel hold a picture of who sought to steal it. From that picture, I could have recognized the man at a glance.”

”That would have meant revealing your powers, but I suppose one less enemy is never a bad thing. Am I to take it that the spell didn't work?”