Conan the Freelance Part 8

"Hardly likely."

"Yet you could grant us crossing were there a compelling reason?"

"It is within the realm of possibility."

Kleg spoke rapidly in true selkie speech, a liquid whistling that the lizard man could not possibly understand. One of Kleg's troop dismounted from his packbeast and approached, carrying a large leather sack over his shoulder.

The Pili's hand drifted toward the knife at his belt.

"Nay, friend, there is no treachery here. Bide a moment."

The selkie with the sack placed it upon the ground and stood away.

"I am given to understand that the Pili have a most interesting diet at times."

"Not for fishman flesh, which is exceedingly vile," the lizard man said.

Kleg nodded. He knew as much and was also exceedingly glad of it. "But behold." He bent and opened the sack, then upended it, to reveal the still-unconscious boy kidnapped from the trees.

The Pili's slit eyes widened. "Ah. A human."

"Indeed. If truth must be known, we have no great use for him ourselves. Perhaps you would take him off our hands?"

The lizard man blinked and appeared to consider this. "In exchange for allowing you to pa.s.s unmolested."

"That had occurred to me, yes."

"He is not very large, the human."

"True, but the only one we happen to have at the moment. And consider the alternative. Your men and mine will fight bravely and many will die. You may win, but it will be a costly victory at best. If you manage to survive to return to your king only to report most of your troop has been slain, surely that will not be happy news?"

"Surely not."

"If, on the other hand, you return with this nice tender young boy for the communal pot, would that not reflect more honor upon you?"

The Pili glanced over his shoulder at his band, then back down at the boy. "There is some merit in that which you speak," the lizard man finally said. "Of course, the Pili are fierce warriors and we could probably slay you and take the boy anyway."

"The bravery of the Pili has never been in question," Kleg said. "Still, it would not be an easy task."

The lizard man nodded. "Aye, the fishmen are not inconsiderable opponents." He looked up from the boy and stretched his lips in a horrible grimace. At first, Kleg took this to be a threat, then he realized it was in fact a smile.

"We of the Pili are feeling benevolent this day, and in honor of the approaching Moon Festival, have decided to allow safe pa.s.sage to the band of fishmen who wandered onto our territory accidentally."

"You are generous and wise," Kleg said.

"So it has been said before."

"If ever you should happen to be in my land, be certain to ask after me."

"Indeed."

The deal was done, and cheap at the price, Kleg figured. Nothing . stood between him and his goal now, save a few days of uneventful travel. He Who Creates would be most pleased.

Chapter SIX.

Dimma lifted to his lip a carved gold cup of fine wine produced by the famed Aquilonian winemakers; indeed, the region bordering the Tyborg River just south of Shamar might well be the source of the most exquisite wines in the world, and this particular vintage was the best of the best. It had taken only a few hours before the newness of being flesh again had allowed just any sensation to be a wonder; now, Dimma required a higher stimulation, such as this rare and valuable wine. He smiled as he inhaled the fragrance of it, antic.i.p.ating the smoothness of it on his palate.

Alas, it was not to be. Even as he tilted the gold cup, he felt the sense of cold that sometimes presaged his change.

"No!"

The cup fell. He had not dropped it, only ceased being able to hold it. Even as the falling container pa.s.sed through his lap to splash on the throne under him, Dimma reaped the fruit of a dying wizard's curse, becoming no more solid than smoke.

He raged, hurling curses of his own after the centuries-dead wizard of Koth, hoping his epithets would seek out and find the soul of his tormentor no matter how deep the pit of Gehanna he inhabited. Dimma called upon the pox of poxes, the blackest of evil demons, the hate of every major and minor G.o.d to smite his old enemy.

He found himself drifting a few steps away from his throne and stopped his imprecations. Once again, he was a disembodied voice, lacking that which most men took for granted. His curses gained him nothing. His hope lay in collecting the final ingredient for his cure. The other parts lay well guarded in the safest chamber of his castle, awaiting only the final talisman and the utterance of the spell, the words of which Dimma now knew as well as the back of his ghostly hand. He had said the words in his mind ten thousand times, practicing for the day when he could speak them aloud and remove this malediction at last.

Where are you, Kleg? Best hope that you have what I need, and best you hurry!

"What will they do with the boy?" Conan asked.

Tair, busy gathering supplies for a long trek, said, "Kill him. That is not the question, only when and how. The selkies are thralls to the Mist Mage, the Abet Blasa, who lives in the great mountain lake six days from here. They have stolen our Seed, doubtless for some nefarious purpose, and our grove dies without it. As for my brother . . ." He shrugged. "We can only hope to catch them before they dispose of him."

Conan nodded, aware of the seriousness of Tair's intent. Not once had he bragged during his explanation.

"We could use another strong man," Tair said.

"Aye," said Cheen, coming up behind Tair, her own pack already loaded. "Your help would be welcome."

Conan considered it. Cheen had saved him from the dragon, though he had repaid that debt almost immediately. And they had offered him their hospitality, he had eaten their food and drunk their wine, albeit the latter had given him somewhat more adventure than he had antic.i.p.ated. Such a courtesy did not demand his allegiance to the death, of course. Still, the memory of his own slavery when not much older than Hok was still strong in Conan. He hated slavers and child stealers.

"When do we leave?" Conan said.

The boy was too young for her usual ministrations, Thayla decided. Then again, he was young and therefore tender, and certainly his arrival could not be considered an ill fortune. A small feast before she sent her loutish husband off to seek the magic secret of the Tree Folk would not be unwelcome. Warriors might fight more wolfishly with empty bellies, but a taste of things to come might also spur the Pili expedition on to great effort. She had already convinced Rayk that once they began their oasis in the desert, such treats would be only a matter of time. The Pili were few in number and slow to breed; however, their advantage lay in reaching adulthood much faster than did the more numerous humans. Raise a Pili child and a human side by side and the Pili would be fully grown while the other was still learning to walk. That could be turned to their advantage, given time.

Stal, the commander of the troop that had returned bearing the boy, stood with Rayk, repeating-and doubtless embellis.h.i.+ng-the story of how they had come by' the human.

"-and even though we were outnumbered four to one by the fishmen, they were so fearful that they tendered the human and begged for our mercy. Since the Moon Festival is nearly upon us, and since they were so repentant over their error in blundering quite by accident onto our territory, I decided to spare them. After all, what is a festival without a feast?"

Rayk nodded and slapped Stal on the shoulder. "You have done well, Stal. I have no doubt you could have slaughtered the offending fishmen easily, but your actions showed a fine grasp of tactics. Better to feast than to be burying one's comrades."

Thayla rolled her eyes upward and looked away. Just like, males, standing around congratulating themselves on how brave and mighty they were, doubtless lying about nearly all of it. Then again, Stal was a fair specimen of Pili male-he had made a few overtures in Thayla's direction-and she might one day, out of boredom, take him to her bed. He had ambition, this one, and might prove useful to her.

The human was in the cage built for such purposes, awake and watching his captors somewhat fearfully. Likely he knew his fate.

Thayla walked to the cage and smiled at the young captive. "Hungry?" she asked.