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"S'tarra are not allowed in the donjon when Amanar isn't here, and humans are locked in their quarters unless he desires them." She tilted her head up, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I didn't betray you, Conan. Not even when Sitha whipped me. I would not tell Amanar who you are."
"It's over, Velita," he said.
She seemed not to hear. Tears trembled on her long lashes. "He became enraged. For my punishment several times a day, without warning, I am commanded to come to this room and kneel until I am told to leave. When I hear footsteps I never know if I am to be sent back to my mat, or if it is Amanar. Sometimes he merely stands, listening to me weep. I hate him for making me fear him so, and I hate myself for weeping, but I can't help it. Sometimes he beats me while I kneel, and if I move the punishment begins again."
"I'll kill him," Conan vowed grimly. "This I swear to you on pain of my life. Come, we'll find the pendants, and I'll take you away this night."
The lithesome naked girl shook her small head firmly. "I cannot go, Conan. I am spell-caught."
"Spell-caught!"
"Yes. Once I tried to escape, and my feet carried me to Amanar. Against my will I found myself telling him what I intended. Another time I tried to kill myself, but when the dagger point touched my breast my arms became like iron. I could not move them, even to set the knife down. When they found me Amanar made me beg before he would free me."
"There must be a way. I could carry you away" But he saw the flaw in that even as she laughed sadly.
"Am I to remain bound the rest of my life for fear of returning to his place? I don't know why I even tried to take my life," she sighed heavily. "I'm sure Amanar will kill me soon. Only Susa and I remain.
The others have disappeared."
The big Cimmerian nodded. "Mages are not easily killed-this I know for truth-but once dead their spells die with them. Amanar's death will free you."
"Best you take the pendants and go," she said. "I can tell you where they are. Four are in the jeweled casket, in a room I can show you. The fifth, the one I wore, is in the chamber where he works his magics."
She frowned and shook her head. "The others he tossed aside like offal.
That one he wrapped in silk and laid in a crystal coffer."
The memory of the stone came back to Conan. A black oval the length of his finger joint, with red flecks that danced within. Suddenly he seized Velita's arms so hard that she cried out. "His eyes," he said urgently. "That stone is like his eyes. In some way it is linked to him. He'll free you rather than have it destroyed. We'll go down to his thaumaturgical chamber-"
"Down? His chamber is in the top of the tower above us. Please release me, Conan. My arms are growing numb."
Hastily he loosed his grip. "Then what lies at the end of that pa.s.sage that seems to lead into the mountain?"
"I know not," she replied, "save that all are forbidden to enter it.
His chamber is where I said. I've been taken to him there. Would the G.o.ds had trade him like Tiridates," she added bitterly, "a lover of boys."
"Then we'll go up to his chamber," Conan said. She shook her head once more. "What's the matter now?" he asked.
"There is a spell on the stairway in the tower whenever he is out of the donjon. Truly he trusts no one, Conan. One of the human servants climbed that stair while Amanar was gone to meet you." She s.h.i.+vered and buried her face against his chest. "He screamed forever, it seemed, and none could get close even to end his misery."
He smoothed her hair awkwardly with a big hand. "Then I must enter the donjon when he is here. But if he isn't here now, Velita, where is he?"
"Why, in your camp of bandits. I heard him say that the night might affright them, so he has taken them rare wines and costly viands for a feasting."
Conan raised his hand helplessly. It seemed the G.o.ds conspired against him at every turn. "Velita, I must go back to the camp. If he suspects I'm here ...."
"I know," she said quietly. "I knew from the first you could not take me with you."
"Does not my standing here tell you my oath-sworn word is good? I will see Amanar dead, and you free."
"No!" she cried. "Amanar is too powerful. You'll die to no purpose. I release you from your oath, Conan. Leave these mountains and forget that I exist."
"You cannot release me from an oath sworn before G.o.ds," he said calmly, "and I will not release myself from one sworn on my life."
"Then you will die. Yet I do pray that somehow you will find a way.
Please go now, Conan. I must await Amanar's return, and I don't want you to see me...." The slender girl's head dropped, and her shoulders quivered with sobs.
"I swear!" Conan grated. Almost wis.h.i.+ng to find himself face to face with the sorcerer, he strode from the room.
Chapter XXI.
As Conan approached the bandit camp he was struck with the sounds of raucous laughter and drunken, off-key singing. Stumbling into the light he stared in amazement. The brigands were in full carouse. Hook-nosed Reza squatted with a whole roast in his hands, tearing at it with his teeth. Aberius staggered past, head tilted back and a crystal flagon upturned. Half the wine spilled down his chest, but the weasel-faced man laughed and tossed the costly vessel to shatter against the rocky ground. Hordo swung his tulwar in one hand, a golden goblet in the other, roaring an obscene song at the moon. Every man sang or laughed, ate or drank, as was his wont and his mood, belching and wiping greasy fingers on his robes, gulping down costly Aquilonian wines like the cheapest tavern swill.
Through the midst of the revelry Karela and Amanar approached Conan.
She held a crystal goblet like a lady of high degree, but there was a stagger to her walk, and the mage had his long arm about her slim shoulder. Amanar had pushed back her scarlet cape so that his elongated fingers caressed her silken flesh in a possessive manner. Remembering Velita, Conan was both disgusted and offended, but he knew he must yet control his temper until the pendant was in his grasp.
"We wondered where you were," the red-haired woman said. "Look at this feast Amanar has brought us. This has cured the fit of sulking that had taken my hounds."
Amanar's dark eyes were unreadable. "There is little to see even in daylight, Conan of Cimmeria, and few men care to wander here in the night. What did you find to interest you in the darkness?"
"They built the fires too hot for my northern blood," Conan replied. He eyed the way those long fingers kneaded Karela's shoulder. "That's a shoulder, mage," he said with more heat than he had intended, "not a lot of bread dough."
Karela looked startled, and Amanar laughed. "The hot blood of youth.
Just how old are you, Cimmerian?" He did not remove his hand.
"Not yet nineteen," Conan said proudly, but he was saddened to see the change in Karela's eyes. He had seen the same in other women's eyes, women who thought a man needed a certain number of years to be a man.
"Not yet nineteen!" Amanar choked on his own laughter. "Practically a beardless youth for all his muscles. The Red Hawk, the great robber of caravans, has robbed a cradle."
She shrugged off the mage's arm, her tilted green eyes glowing dangerously. "A barbar boy," she muttered. Then, in a louder voice, "I have considered your offer, Amanar. I accept."
"Excellent," the sorcerer said with a satisfied smile. He rubbed the side of his long face with the golden staff and regarded Conan. "And you, young Cimmerian who likes to wander in the dark? Despite your youth my offer to you yet holds, for I think there must be skill in those ma.s.sive shoulders."
Conan managed to force a smile onto his lips. "I need to think longer.
In a day or two, as you first spoke of, I will give you my answer."
Amanar nodded. "Very well, Cimmerian. In a day or two we shall see what your future will be." His red-flecked eyes turned to Karela with a caressing gaze that made Conan's flesh crawl. "You, my dear Karela, must come to the keep on the morrow. Without the young Cimmerian, of course, as he has not yet made up his mind. We must have a number of long private discussions concerning my plans for you."
Conan longed to smash his fist into that dark face but instead he said, "Perhaps you'll speak of some of those plans to us all. Knowing what they are might help me decide, and some of these others as well."
Karela's head had been turning between the two men with a comparing gaze, but at that she jerked rigidly erect. "My hounds go where I command, Cimmerian!"
A sudden silence fell, laughter and song all dying away. Conan looked around for the cause and found Sitha standing at the edge of the light, clutching a great double-bladed battle-ax across its broad chest. Red eyes glowed faintly as it surveyed the men around the fires, and they s.h.i.+fted uneasily, some loosening their weapons in their scabbards. The S'tarra's lipless mouth curled back from its fangs in what might have been meant for a smile. Or a sneer.
"Sitha!" Amanar said sharply.
Looking neither to left nor right, the S'tarra strode through the camp to kneel at Amanar's feet. At an impatient gesture Sitha rose and leaned close to whisper in its master's ear.
Conan could catch no sound of what was said, nor read anything on the mage's dark face, but Amanar's knuckles grew white on his golden staff, telling Conan the man found the news displeasing. Talbor, Conan thought. Amanar gestured for his minion to be silent.