Part 4 (1/2)
Wherefore the Anakim cry out that he was murdered by the order of the general Imbalayo. They search for Keluka in the Kus.h.i.+tes' quarter and fight with the Kus.h.i.+tes!”
Rufia, listening behind a curtain, stifled a cry. Akhirom's faraway gaze did not alter. Wrapped in aloofness he replied:
”Let the Hyrkanians separate them. Shall private quarrels interfere with the destiny of a G.o.d? Othbaal is dead, but Akhirom lives forever.
Another man shall lead my Anakim. Let the Kus.h.i.+tes handle the mob until they realize the sin of their atheism. My destiny is to reveal myself to the world in blood and fire, until all the tribes of the earth know me and bow down before me! You may go.”
Night was falling on a tense city as Conan, his head wound now healed, strode through the streets adjoining the quarter of the Kus.h.i.+tes. In that section, occupied mostly by soldiers, lights shone and stalls were open by tacit agreement. All day, revolt had rumbled in the quarters.
The mob was like a thousand-headed serpent; stamp it out here and it broke out there. The hooves of the Kus.h.i.+tes had clattered from one end of the city to the other, spattering blood.
Only armed men now traversed the streets. The great iron-bound wooden gates of the quarters were locked as in times of civil war. Through the lowering arch of the great gate of Simura cantered troops of black hors.e.m.e.n, the torchlight crimsoning their naked scimitars. Their silken cloaks flowed in the wind, and their black arms gleamed like polished ebony.
Conan entered a cookshop where girdled warriors gorged and secretly guzzled forbidden wine. Instead of taking the first place open he stood, head up, his smoldering eyes roaming the place. His gaze came to rest on a far corner where a plainly-dressed man with a kaffia pulled well down over his face sat cross-legged on the floor in a dim alcove.
A low table of food stood on the floor in front of the man.
Conan strode across, swerving around the other tables. He kicked a cus.h.i.+on into the alcove opposite the seated man and dropped down upon it.
”Greetings, Farouz!” he rumbled. ”Or should I say General Mazdak?”
The Hyrkanian started. ”What's that?”
Conan grinned wolfishly. ”I knew you when we entered the house of Othbaal. No one but the master of the house could know its secrets so well, and that house had once belonged to Mazdak the Hyrkanian.”
”Not so loud, friend! How did you pick me out when my own men don't know me in this Zuagir's headcloth?”
”I used my eyes. Well, now that our first venture has paid us so well, what shall we do next?”
”I know not. I should be able to do something with one of your brawn and force. But you know how it is with the dog-brothers.”
”Aye,” snarled Conan. ”I tried to get mercenary service, but your three rival armies hate each other so and strive so fiercely for the rule of the state that none will have me. Each thinks I'm a spy for one of the other two.” He paused to order a joint of beef.
”What a restless dog you are!” said Mazdak. ”Will you then go back to Akkharia?”
Conan spat. ”Nay. It's small, even for one of these little Shemitish fly-specks of a state, and has no great wealth. And the people are as crazily touchy about their racial and national pride as you all are here, so I couldn't hope to rise very high. Perhaps I'd do better under one of the Hyborian rulers to the north, if I could find one who'd pick men for fighting ability only. But look you, Mazdak, why don't you seize the rule of this nation for yourself? Now that Othbaal's gone, you have only to find an excuse for putting a blade into Imbalayo's guts, and...”
”Tarim! I'm as ambitious as the next man, but not so headlong as that!
Know that Imbalayo, having gotten the confidence of our mad monarch, dwells in the Great Palace, surrounded by his black swordsmen. Not that one could not kill him by a sudden stab during some public function-if one did not mind being cut to bits instantly afterward. And then where's ambition?”
”We should be able to think up something,” said Conan, eyes narrowed.
”We, eh? I suppose you'd expect a reward for your part?”
”Of course. What sort of fool do you think me?”
”No more foolish than the next. I see no immediate prospect of such an enterprise, but I'll bear your words in mind. And fear not but that you'd be well repaid. Now fare you well, for I must go back into the toils of politics.”
Conan's joint arrived as Mazdak left. Conan dug his teeth into the meat with even more than his usual gusto, for the success of his vengeance had made his spirits soar. While devouring a ma.s.s that would have satisfied a lion, he listened to the talk around him.
”Where are the Anakim?” demanded a mustached Hyrkanian, cramming his jaws with almond cakes.
”They sulk in their quarter,” answered another. ”They swear the Kus.h.i.+tes slew Othbaal and show Keluka's ring to prove it. Keluka has disappeared, and Imbalayo swears he knows naught of it. But there's the ring, and a dozen had been slain in brawls when the king ordered us to beat them apart. By Asura, this has been a day of days!”
”Akhirom's madness brought it on,” declared another in a lowered voice.