Conan the Freelance Part 17

Kleg sat alone in one corner of a small and uncrowded inn called, for reasons no one seemed to remember, the Wooden Fish. The innkeeper, a bald, stout, pockmarked man of advanced years, set before the selkie a platterful of cooked eel and raw mussels, as well as a tankard of kral, a potent and aromatic beverage favored by Kleg's kind. He had heard men refer to kral as smelling like a night chamber and tasting like pond sc.u.m, but to a selkie, the beverage was sweet and fresh, and far better than the vinegary wines men drank.

Kleg felt much better than he had for several days. He had food, drink, and a room for the day. He would eat and drink, sleep while the sands of the day ran down to night, then arise and look up a few old friends in the evening cool, waiting until dawn again to begin the final leg of his journey. He deserved the rest, he knew, and a single day more would mean little against the vast scale of time, given that he had accomplished his mission. He Who Creates might grumble at Kleg's slowness, but such noises would be lost in the joy of the prize. Moreover, He Who Creates would certainly not wish for the talisman to be lost during the swim due to tiredness on the part of its bearer. Of that, Kleg had no doubt he could convince his master.

The selkie chewed thoughtfully on a section of eel. It was badly cooked, the eel, and spiced worse, but that was a small matter. In another few days, Kleg would be free to roam the Sarga.s.so, and would dine on fresher fare seasoned in its own hot blood. The thought of it brought a smile to Kleg's face, and his white teeth gleamed brightly in the flickering light of the tapers.

Chapter TWELVE.

Thayla's plan to circle well past the oasis and set a trap for the escapees and their new band seemed to her without flaw. The Queen of the Pili had high hopes that the encounter would be brief and b.l.o.o.d.y, ending with more meat for the table than her kind had seen in many moons. From disaster could come triumph. When her foolish husband returned, the evidence of her impropriety would be steaming in the kettle, or perhaps slowly roasting over a low fire. Indeed, with as much food as the ambushed party represented, she would have a triumph she could lord over her husband for a long, long time, especially should he fail to obtain the forest talisman.

The shortest and most reasonable path to the east from this part of the desert required a traveler to pa.s.s among a series of s.h.i.+fting dunes not more than a few moments' walk ahead of Thayla and her band. These mounds of fine, powdery sand stood at their tallest more than a dozen times the height of a Pili, and their contours s.h.i.+fted from month to month, sometimes even from day to day. The winds shaped the sands, moving the drifts slowly but surely, so that where they lay upon the desert now was a far remove from where they had been even twenty winters past. Smooth valleys tended to form between the towering dunes, and these valleys became natural pathways.

When they reached the dunes, Thayla followed the widest entry path for a short distance. "Here," she said. She divided her force and ordered it into position.

"You, you, and you, climb that hillock and hide behind the crest. You and you, ascend yon sandy rock. The four of you, over there. You and you and you, with me, over here."

The dozen Pili were thus arranged so that when the escapees entered the valley, they would be surrounded.

"Oh, and a special reward for the one whose spear slays the large man, the one who fled our hospitality."

That remark would ensure that virtually all the troops would concentrate on Conan. To be even more certain, Thayla added, "And should he escape again, I will have all of your hides for a carpet to floor the Korga pens."

The attack from higher ground would give her troops the advantage, Thayla felt, and even if the slaughter was not complete, Conan would certainly die. That was, after all, the important thing.

As the sun settled low to begin his nightly rest, Thayla climbed the squeaky sands, to wait.

Conan and the small group of Tree Folk moved across the dark desert, water bottles full, enjoying the coolness of the night. Under the moon's pale gaze, a series of humps arose from the flat desert ahead of them.

"The dunes," Cheen said. "That means the end of the desert is not far. We will be well clear by first light."

Conan regarded the dunes. He felt a chill colder than the night air warranted p.r.i.c.kle his spine. "I like this not," he said.

Cheen looked at the Cimmerian. "I do not take your meaning."

"Travel in the dark is made bearable by the ability to see for such a long distance." He waved one arm to indicate the flat bareness of the desert around them. "In those hills of sand, our view will be much impeded."

So.

"So, we have seen no sign of pursuit by the Pili."

"We should thank the Green G.o.ddess for such good fortune. Perhaps they chose not to follow."

"Aye. But the Queen of the Pili did not strike me as someone who would allow us to escape unmolested."

"Does this worry of yours reach some conclusion?"

Conan shrugged. "The Pili would know that we could see them coming for a long way on the desert, giving us time to prepare a defense. But in those hills ahead, they might hide until we came very close. We could be trapped."

"You worry needlessly. It is unlikely the dunes hold hidden Pili."

"Unlikely, perhaps. Not impossible."

"What would you have us do?"

"Go around."

"That is not a good idea. Going around would cost us hours; we would be caught in the desert sun for at least another half day, perhaps longer."

Conan shook his head. Why did it seem as if he had spent the greater part of his life of late arguing with women? They must like it, he thought, for no more reason than the sake of the argument itself. Surely it was better to cook under a desert sun for half a day than to leave one's bones bleaching on the sands for eternity? But he did not say so aloud; instead, he loosened his sword in its scabbard and vowed to approach the pa.s.sage ahead with special caution, no matter what Cheen said.

The single man standing night watch at the main gate of Karatas was bored. He could hardly be blamed for being so; after all, the last real threat to the city from without had come in the time of his father's father. The village was somewhat under the protection of the Mist Mage, at least enough so that any of the roving bands of bandits who might not be deterred by the palisade were loath to try Dimma's power. The region was remote enough so that no king with a great army and a wizard of his own cared to bother with a small village on the edge of a big lake with few riches to offer. True, the guard thought-and the dullness of his watch offered much time for thinking, though he was not overburdened with an apparatus for cerebration-there were a few attractive women, some pa.s.sable wines, and even a little gold here. Hardly enough of all three together to be considered sufficient booty by a king with an army to feed and clothe, however.

Having entertained this particular train of thinking more than a few times during the boring seasons of his watch, the guard could not be bothered to worry when, from his perch on the wall, he saw a single Pili approaching the village in the silvery moonlight. The guard's beard was shot full of gray and he had been a.s.signed this watch since before that beard had begun to fully sprout. The most dangerous incident he had faced in all that time had been a drunken farmer who threw rotten melons at him. And missed.

The guard had seen lizard men before. They were rare in these parts, to be sure, but probably half a dozen had pa.s.sed through the gates during his watch at one time or another, so the guard was not one to gape at the sight of a Pili, even one with a decidedly regal bearing such as this one had.

"Alert, the watch!" the Pili called.

"Alert, indeed," the guard called back. "What be your business here?"

"I carry a message for one of the fishmen. Permit me to enter."

Even though the lizard man carried a long spear, the guard felt no particular peril. He tugged at the lever that opened the smaller entrance. Below him, the door began to swing open.

The Pili turned and shouted something into the darkness in a tongue the guard did not understand.

"What . . . ?" the guard began. He stopped when he caught sight of at least a score of spear-carrying lizard men running toward the gate. "Hey!"

The guard tried to reverse the lever. The greenish bronze suddenly seemed slippery in his hands. This was bad business!

"Here!" came a voice.

The guard looked, and saw the first Pili standing below him, inside the gate, The guard was still deciding whether to question, threaten, or plead with the lizard man when the thrown spear struck him solidly in the center of the chest. He was filled with hot pain, but only for an instant. The pain stopped, he became numb, then he could not feel anything.

The guard's final thought was an odd one. After all the years of dullness, something exciting had finally happened.

Kleg awakened after the cloak of night had fallen over the village. He felt much better. He arose, .drenched himself with the bowl of wash water in the room, and thus refreshed, left the room on the inn's third and highest floor, intending to eat another meal before going out.

As the selkie reached the stair landing, he chanced to glance out through the small window cut through the outer wall. The sky's cloth of darkness was pierced by the sharp pinp.r.i.c.ks of uncountable stars and easily half the grinning moon, and a cool breeze carried the living odor of the lake through the opening. Kleg felt quite good, until he happened to look down through the window.

There on the narrow street between the inn and the leather shop across it, several figures scurried along. Between the moon's glow and that of a fat-fueled torch mounted on the side of the inn at street level, it was easy for the selkie's sharp eyes to tell that the trotting forms were neither men nor selkies.

They were Pili.

The chill that enveloped Kleg had nothing whatever to do with the night winds blowing through the window.

Pili! How could they be here? Surely the guard would not have admitted an armed band of them! Had they scaled the wall surrounding the village? Broken through the gate?