Part 49 (1/2)

”By Erlik's beard! How-?”

”Do not blaspheme.”

If Illyana had spoken in Stygian, Conan could not have looked blanker.

This time it was Raihna who frowned, then spoke.

”Forgive us, mistress. We think only of your comfort.”

”That is honorable. Very well. We give our consent.” Illyana waved a languid hand downhill. ”Do your duty.”

Once again Bora had the notion he was listening to a queen. A queen-or at least a ruler, consisting of a woman and one of the Jewels.

Not both Jewels. Please, G.o.ds, not both.

Bora cudgeled his thoughts into order and began seeking slingstones under the bushes.

A Cimmerian battle cry seemed to stun half the men. The rest leaped up.

That made them the first to die, as their attackers struck. Conan hewed down two, and Raihna the third.

One of the sitting men fell over, ribs crushed and heart stopped by a slingstone. His comrades now rose, one to run, the other to thrust at Conan with his spear. The Cimmerian had to give ground for a moment, then hacked through the spearshaft with his sword.

The man had enough of the shaft left to raise it like a fighting staff.

He caught Conan's first slash, then tried to kick the Cimmerian in the knee.

This display of skill and courage neither altered nor greatly delayed the man's fate. Raihna slipped under the guard of his improvised staff with her dagger. He reeled back, thigh pouring blood, and did not look up as Conan's sword descended.

Bora looked for the man who had fled, and saw him already far enough to make a kill chancy. Then he looked around him. Conan would doubtless have noted any sentries, who indeed could not have been very alert. A second pair of eyes never harmed the chances of victory, as Conan's Captain Khadjar said.

Had Bora seen Master Eremius walking up the hill, he could hardly have been more surprised.

”Yakoub!”

The Cimmerian whirled. Bora pointed. The Cimmerian's sword leaped up.

”Good morning, Captain Conan,” Yakoub said. He sounded as calm as if they were meeting to visit a tavern. Then he looked at the bodies of his men. For a moment the calm broke and his face showed naked grief.

”I did not teach them enough,” was all Yakoub said. Then he drew his own sword. ”I can still avenge them.”

”Small chance of that,” Conan said. After a moment he sheathed his own sword. ”Yakoub, I'd rather not face your father with your blood on my hands. I have no more quarrel with you.”

”If you meant that, you wouldn't have killed my men.”

”Your men?” the Cimmerian snorted. ”Master Ere-mius's tame dogs? What do you owe them?”

”My death or yours,” Yakoub said.

”That dung-sp.a.w.ned-” Bora began. He reached for his sling. A moment later he knew that speaking had been a mistake. A muscular Bossonian arm took him across the throat from behind. Raihna's free hand s.n.a.t.c.hed the sling from his grip.

Freed suddenly, he whirled to face the swords-woman. ”You-! Whose side are you on?”