Part 41 (2/2)
He rang a bell on the table. From outside the door came a girl's voice.
”Yes, Captain?”
”Wine and four cups. Then go heat me a bath, with enough water for two.”
”At your pleasure, Captain.”
This time Conan recognized the voice as Dessa's. He looked a question at Khezal. The man grinned.
”I've inherited Shamil's responsibilities. Why shouldn't I inherit a few of his comforts as well?”
Bora s.h.i.+fted the sack of charcoal to his left arm and knocked on the door.
”Maryam, it is Bora. I have the charcoal.”
The sound of bare feet gave way to a bolt being drawn. Maryam peered out. She wore only a chamber robe of scarlet silk, belted lightly about her with a gold-ta.s.seled cord. The color went well with her dark skin, Bora noticed. He also noticed how much of that skin was revealed. He knew he should not savor such an immodest display, but found it hard to turn his eyes away.
”Come in, come in. Put the charcoal by the north wall.”
Bora nearly stumbled over the dyed fleeces on the floor as he entered.
Crimson, indigo, a rich green horribly like the emerald fire of the Jewels, they dazzled the eye but laid traps for unwary feet.
At least he needed no guidance to the north wall. It was piled high with sacks of charcoal and salt, pots of spices and herbs, and stacks of bra.s.s bowls. He dropped the charcoal on top of the nearest pile and straightened up, stretching to untwist his muscles.
”How much Powder do they plan to make? This looks like enough to baffle every spell from here to the Iranistani frontier!”
Maryam smiled. ”Mistress Illyana keeps her tongue between her teeth, as well she should. Certainly no one will have an easy time, sending magic against Fort Zheman.”
She knelt to open a small chest. As she did, her robe dropped away, to expose yet more skin, halfway down the ripe curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Bora twisted again, to look away.
When he looked back, Maryam was holding out two cups of wine. ”Shall we drink a toast, to your victory?”
”Best make it to my safe return.”
She embraced him, clumsily because she was still holding the wine cups.
Her lips nuzzled the side of his neck and caressed his throat.
”So they have the sense to take you with them? The G.o.ds be praised!”
”I never thought they were fools, Maryam. That big Cimmerian above all.
I'm the best guide they could find, without using magic.”
They drank. It seemed to Bora that Maryam was using a trifle of magic of her own, for a single cup seemed to make his head lighter than usual. He noted that she only sipped her wine, and had yet to finish her first cup when he was nearly done with his second.
He would have drunk a third, but she put a hand over the mouth of his cup. ”No more, Bora. No more. Young as you are, wine can still do you harm.”
She set down her own cup and put her other hand over Bora's mouth. She drew her fingers along his lips and across his cheek, then thrust a hand into the open throat of his s.h.i.+rt.
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